


Wakandan Sunsets

by Skarabrae_stone



Series: Wakandan Sunsets [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Black Panther (2018), Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarabrae_stone/pseuds/Skarabrae_stone
Summary: Inspired by the post-credit scene in Black Panther. Steve sees Bucky for the first time after cryo.





	Wakandan Sunsets

The hovercraft drops him off in a small village some way outside the city. A group of children runs toward him immediately, shouting in Xhosa. He picks up the words “Another” and “visitor”, but there are too many voices speaking at once for him to make sense of the language he only started learning a few months ago.

The children surround him, and he smiles at them, the official smile he learned back when he sold War Bonds. “ _Hello. I look for Bucky? Other American? You know where?”_

The kids laugh at his broken Xhosa, but one of them tugs his hand and leads him forward.

“ _Come with me! He is here.”_

“ _Thank you._ ”

They’ve only gone a few yards, though, when a figure steps out of one of the houses. He’s clad in a crimson robe of the kind Steve’s gotten used to seeing here, but there’s no mistaking who he is: even if Steve couldn’t recognize Bucky Barnes from a mile away, there can’t be a whole lot of long-haired, one-armed white guys wandering around Wakanda.

They both freeze, and there’s a moment of silence before Bucky speaks.

“Steve.”

A bit of tension drains away, the ever-nagging fear that Bucky won’t remember him. He moves forward again, slowly, the kids clustering around him like a gaggle of ducklings.

“Heya, Buck.” He stops about five feet away, not wanting to crowd him. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky looks like he’s thinking hard about the answer. There are hollows in his cheeks and shadows in his eyes, and he has an air of weariness so profound that Steve aches with it. He’s still the most beautiful sight Steve’s ever seen.

“Better,” he says at last, and one corner of his mouth lifts upwards, a small, ironic twist. “Better than I was.”

It doesn’t need to be said that this is an incredibly low bar to clear.

“That’s… that’s good,” says Steve, a little helplessly, and moves closer, suddenly aware of every ache and pain and sore muscle from the past few weeks. He’s still in his uniform, still spattered with mud and probably blood, and he feels so dreadfully unsure in the face of Bucky’s calm gaze. “Shuri said… the triggers?”

“They’re gone.” He shivers a little, closes his eyes, and opens them again. “They’re gone,” he repeats, and offers something like a smile.

Steve feels like something’s squeezing his chest, making it hard to get the words out. “I wanted to be there,” he says. “When you… when you woke up. But—Nakia had a mission for me, and—”

“No rest for Captain America.”

He can’t quite hide his wince. “I think that ship sailed, Buck. But… yeah. I… owe them, so. I went.”

Bucky frowns a little and reaches up to brush something off Steve’s cheek. Steve tries to hide the warmth that floods him at the touch, resists closing his eyes, resists leaning into it.

“You look like shit.”

Steve’s mouth twists in a wry smile. “You should see the other guys.”

There’s another pause. Steve has the impression that Bucky’s weighing every word before he says it, a careful consideration that he’d never seemed to need in the past. His voice is kind of rough; maybe he’s just not used to talking anymore.

“Who was it?” he says at last.

Steve shifts. “Boko Haram. They—we had to rescue some girls they’d kidnapped.” His stomach churns just thinking about it; it’s going to be a long time before he can get the horrors of this particular mission out of his head.

Something dark flashes in Bucky’s eyes, but he just nods, not asking for anything more.

Steve can only be grateful—he knows he’ll need to talk about it at some point, possibly with the therapist T’Challa insists he see when he’s here, but for now, he’d rather not think about it if he can help it. There are so many things he wants to say— _what will you do now, will you stay, don’t leave me again_ —but he doesn’t have the courage to utter any of them. Instead, he just stands there, like an idiot, in his muddy uniform, squinting a little in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

“Come sit down,” says Bucky finally, when the silence has stretched on for too long. “You’re—you look tired.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Steve follows him past the last of the houses, where some wooden chairs are set up near the river. He sinks into one gratefully. He hadn’t realized until just now how tired he is.

“They said I could stay here,” Bucky says. “If I want.”

“Oh.” Steve isn’t sure what to do with this information. “And—do you want to?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll—I mean, I’d stay with you, if you wanted. Here, or—or somewhere else.”

Bucky looks away from him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I—I want to.” Steve swallows. “I… missed you, Bucky. So bad. I’ll understand if you don’t—if you don’t want me around, but… I’d like to stay. With you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There’s a short silence. The children have lost interest in them, running off to some game of their own; the sound of their laughter makes something hurt deep inside Steve’s chest. When was the last time he heard anyone laugh like that, for sheer joy? He can’t remember.

“I don’t get it,” says Bucky.

“Get what?”

“You. Why you…” He makes a noise of frustration, gesturing with his remaining arm. “I don’t get why you’re doing this, Steve. You could be doing anything, saving the world, and instead you’re—you’re hiding out with me.”

“I’m still doing stuff,” Steve points out. “Just now it’s for T’Challa, instead of SHIELD or whoever.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.” He rubs his hands over his face, delaying, before finally facing Bucky again. He has to get this right.

“You’re right,” he says. “I could be out saving the world. I could’ve gone back to being Captain America. But I—I’ve been Captain America for so long, Bucky. I’m… tired. And before, when that was all I had—all I had left, I tried to let it be enough. But I…” He swallows, looks down at his hands. “The truth is, I need you, Bucky. I tried living without you, and it was—it was so _empty_ , Buck, like I was just carrying this big hole around inside me. And then, when I realized you were alive, when I thought I might get to have you back…” He trails off, biting his lip.

He doesn’t want to accuse Bucky, or make him feel bad for running, but the truth is that knowing he was alive, without knowing he was safe—that he was alive, but didn’t want Steve’s help or presence—was almost as bad as thinking he was dead. In some ways, it was worse. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that Bucky might not want him anymore. The realization had stung far more than it had any right to.

“I’m not the same,” says Bucky softly. “You know I’m not. I’m so fucked up, Steve, even without the triggers. I don’t—I feel like, you got all these expectations, and I can’t fulfill ‘em.”

“I don’t—”

“I can s _ee_ you, Steve,” he interrupts. “I know how you think. You think you can save me, but you can’t. This is—this is what’s left of me. I don’t have anything left to give.”

Steve wants to argue, but he makes himself think it over, actually listen to what Bucky’s trying to say. He thinks of the lonely months of lurking around T’Challa’s palace while Bucky was in cryo, the years of emptiness, of feeling Bucky’s loss like a phantom limb. He can hardly stand the thought of being without him again, and yet…

He squares his shoulders, tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I just want you to be happy, Bucky,” he says. “And if—if you don’t want me to stick around, then I’ll… I’ll leave you alone. If that’s what you want.”

Bucky looks at him for a long moment, curiously, like Steve is a puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “But that’s not what you want.”

“No, Bucky, I…” Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He fists his hands on his thighs, trying to maintain control. “I think it’d half kill me, leaving you again,” he admits hoarsely. “But I’d do it, if you wanted me to. I’d do anything for you, Buck. Anything at all.”

“Even leaving me alone?”

“If that’s what you want.” It takes all his courage to turn to him, to meet his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

There’s a pause, and then Bucky’s eyes dip down, fingers clenching on the fabric of his robe. “No,” he says quietly. “No, it’s not what I want.”

“Then let me stay, Buck.” Steve leans forward, his hand hovering, not quite touching Bucky’s shoulder. “Please. Let me stay with you.”

Bucky makes a sound, a sharp little exhale that could almost be a laugh. “Alright, Stevie. Okay. God, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?”

“Hell if I know.”

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders, then, and Steve leans into him, soaking up his warmth and solidity. He smells of sandalwood and maybe turmeric or some other spice, so different from the sharp-scented colognes he used to use.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers into Bucky’s neck. “Don’t leave me again.”

Bucky makes a pained little noise, and presses his lips to Steve’s hair. “Okay,” he murmurs, and his arm circling around him feels like safety, like assurance. “Okay.”

Somewhere in the background, a girl’s clear voice rises in song, and others join in, clapping in rhythm to the joyful tune. The sun dips below the horizon, gilding the clouds with purple, scarlet, and gold.

Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world, and Steve is finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I really, REALLY wanted them to kiss, but... I feel like they're both a little too fragile in this moment for that to happen. Sorry.
> 
> "Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world" is a quote from Black Panther.


End file.
